


Soft, like wings

by trashemdudes



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, Guilt, M/M, PWP, Relationship Study, arguably unhealthy attachment, but that's pretty much their relationship, issues and talking are ignored for sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 10:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashemdudes/pseuds/trashemdudes
Summary: It's the way Bruce makes him feel. It's all the things he leaves unsaid because he doesn't think Bruce wants to hear them.





	Soft, like wings

Dick exits the meeting room, Bruce at his side, with a quiet sigh of relief. They'd finally gotten the stockholders to agree with continuing the expansion with space exploration equipment. If they hadn't that would've been a setback for upgrading the Watchtower defenses and having readily available replacements. Bruce had only found out about the resistance last night, but he'd played it perfectly, not a single hair or motion out of place as he played an idealistic, whimsical Brucie.

Dick glances at Bruce, looking the man over, his entire stance and demeanor still in his public persona, but they're still walking in perfect time with each other. Bruce's no nonsense pace still there. It makes a stupid smile on spread on his face.

Bruce shoots him a curious glance. One veiled behind a goofy, harmless smile plastered on as his resting face.

Dick only shrugs in response as they reach the end of the hall and turn towards the elevator. "You all done for the day? Need to grab anything from your office?"

"Lucius can handle everything else. I'll be free for the rest of the day, luckily," Bruce replies, straightening out his sleeves. He looks good as Bruce Wayne. Hair slicked back with a few loose strands at the front. Suit with a matte texture and form fitting. Even the relaxed confidence matched with an aura of naivete. He almost seems sweet, and the thought of Bruce authentically feeling or doing anything "Brucie" does makes Dick want to snicker. 

Bruce catches Dick's little chuff, and the edges of his lips curl even if he keeps his eyes forward.

When they reach the elevator and step inside in time, Dick presses the button for the garage. He then steps back again so that he's shoulder to shoulder with Bruce. He clears his throat and says, "This your private elevator right?"

Dick is slammed up against the wall in response, breathless and laughing.

Bruce has a light in his eyes, and his grin is almost childish with delight. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Dick manages to say before Bruce's lips are on his. 

Dick's head hits the wall behind him with a soft thunk.

Bruce holds, gently, if firmly, Dick's jaw in place as he licks into his mouth, his tongue hot as he steals Dick's breaths from his lips. He slides his tongue in deep, sucking on Dick's before he pulls back to nip at Dick's lower lip. Dick's lips tingle faintly with each hot, damp puff of air against his lips. He licks his lips, feeling heat burn in his stomach and start to well up. 

Dick leans forward but is kept in place as Bruce draws back to inspect him with half lidded eyes and reddened lips. There's a twitch to his lips on his impassive face before he pins one of Dick's hands up above him, taking a long slow look from head to toe of Dick pressed up against the wall. When he leans in again its to draws his lips along Dick's jaw as he grinds his thigh against him, solid and offering the perfect friction. The feel of the thick muscle and makes Dick let out a sharp groan as he bucks his hips. Bruce squeezes his wrist and then lets go, but Dick stays in place as Bruce slides his hand down Dick’s arm. He trails his fingertips slowly down, drawing goosebumps over Dick's skin.

Dick holds his breath, eyes never breaking from Bruce's hungry gaze, as he moves from Dick’s palm and pulse point to the delicate tendons on his wrist down his forearm to the soft skin of his inner elbow and lower, past his ticklish ribs until he reaches his hip, rubbing his thumb over the bone, too close and too far. Dick shoves back a shiver at his touch as his eyes follow Bruce's thick fingers, imagining feeling each knuckle inside him. He ruts, panting, against Bruce's thigh.

He licks his lips as an invitation.

Bruce's eyes are dark, pupils dilated so that there's only a thin ring of blue, and his expression makes Dick's skin feel too small for his body. 

Then Bruce says, low into Dick's ear, "You got it right." The curl of his r's and the sharpness of the t sends a jolt of electricity down Dick's spine.

Bruce lifts him up against the wall, hands under his thighs, in one smooth move. Dick's half hard just from the way he can handle Dick, let alone the line of heat that's Bruce's body against his, crushing him. He can feel Bruce's steady heart beat over his, and just the faintest stutter in it as his eyes roam Dick splayed out before him, lips already red, hair mussed and a flush over his face. It's the way Bruce looks at him, like Dick is good. Like all that he could possibly ever want is there in front of him in Dick. Dick might even let himself believe it for a split second.

Bruce's eyes narrow with fondness as he moves in to brush over Dick's, a hand curved around Dick's cheek. His fingers brush a few strands of hair away. Bruce pulls back, but Dick chases, arms wrapping around Bruce’s neck to pull him down into a kiss forcefully. He surges up against him, rolling his hips. Bruce's mouth is hot and slick against Dick’s, and he can taste the coffee from this morning, as he traces the edges of Bruce’s teeth. Bruce is hot and hard against his thigh, and each rolls of his hips along Bruce's stomach brings him sharply closer. 

Dick might not be able to stand without wobbling when Bruce eventually lets him down for them to exit the elevator. It won't look good for both of them to exit the elevator this way, in case the unlikely possibility that the paparazzi snuck inside the garage. The billionaire playboy and his ward. But Dick is hard, and he knows Bruce's paranoia far outweighs his. If Bruce as carefully deliberate and controlled as he is, initiated it, there won't be a problem.

His grip around the back of Bruce's neck is rough, but he knows Bruce likes that. That he wants this as much as Dick.

He licks at Dick’s lips, nipping at whatever his lips brush against. It’s hot and wet, each slide of his tongue, sending a jolt of electricity to his cock. 

He loves this. The line of heat of Bruce's body against him, him held steady and secure by him.

Dick likes being spoiled by Bruce's attention. 

He pulls back far enough to see Bruce’s face clearly, and then he tilts his head down, knocking their foreheads together. He closes his eyes.

“Dick?” Bruce asks after a moment when Dick doesn’t respond to his attempts for a kiss, to the way his nose traces his cheekbone as his lips brush Dick’s cheek.

“Selina and I had a talk the other day.” 

Bruce blinks, looking a little baffled.

Dick supposes that’s a good thing. It means Bruce wasn’t doing it consciously. Or it means he was prepared for this discussion and is ready to lie his ass off. He’s willing to say it’s a fifty-fifty chance for both.

“About...what?”

“She made some suggestive comments.” He’d felt a little grimy knowing about Bruce’s past sex life without the man’s permission. It hadn’t helped how much he’d repressed the desire to know and how Selina had dangled it in front of him to distract him from her thieving - it’d admittedly been a clever distraction. Bruce’s resting scowl deepens, and he shifts Dick’s thighs in his hands, both of them still pressed hip to hip. The movement sends a shudder through Dick’s body at the feel of Bruce's erection, but Bruce doesn’t seem to notice.

“What did she say exactly?”

The elevator dings, and the doors open. Dick is silent as Bruce slowly lets Dick back down, and when Dick's feet touch the floor, they're moving forward again, straightening out their clothes and hair. There's not much Dick can do about his lips or probably the flush on his face, but it'll have to do. There is a slight tremble in his legs, but he's always had control over his body.

Dick wills his erection away, regulating his breathing back to normal. He notes the fact that Bruce somehow already has it down. Though he supposes perceived entrapment does that to a guy. Not that Dick was certain Bruce was the kind of guy to be turned off by that considering the kinky shenanigans he'd gotten up to with Selina in and out of costume. 

They walk the few meters down to where Bruce had parked his black Mercedes, and the door unlocks automatically at the proximity of the key in Dick's pocket. They slide inside and once the doors click shut, Bruce asks again, "What did she say exactly?"

Dick doesn't respond immediately. Instead he steps down onto the brake and shifts the gear into reverse. Bruce waits for Dick as he glances into the mirrors, back, and into the camera before sliding smoothly out of the spot and switching gears until they're moving forward and out from under the Wayne Corporation building.

Bruce's silence is stony. It's obvious he's waiting for Dick to give in and respond like he should. Silence is his pushing actually, Dick muses. It works as well as any other coercion. 

"She talked about your sex life together."

"..." Dick glances towards Bruce and can see the hint of disapproving irritation, directed at Dick or Selina, he doesn't know - probably both - and...confusion. It flickers quickly into assessing, and Dick can literally see Bruce attempting to figure out what Dick is implying by that sentence. Dick's more willing to hedge his bets on Bruce doing it unconsciously then.

"...And?"

"It's not like ours."

Bruce's head snaps towards Dick, his eyes narrowed slightly in irritation. His hair is still a little mussed up from the elevator. He sighs, running his fingers through his hair, pushing loose strands back into their neatly gelled place. "Stop beating around the bush, Dick."

Dick sighs. It's because he doesn't know how to bring it up without Bruce seeing it as...spoiled? ungrateful? childish? Dick isn't sure. 

He glances towards Bruce.

"We've had sex more than a few times, and you're overbearing, Bruce." Dick considers his words. "No, not exactly, but we haven't been equal. I'm the focus of it all." Dick fumbles around, a part of his mind amused by his diction. 

"..And?"

Dick sort of wants to jab Bruce in the face or something. "From Selina's description-" her very in-detail descriptions " -it seems like it was more balanced between you two."

There's silence and then a heavy sigh from Bruce. "You and Selina are different people, Dick. Of course I'd treat you differently and of course intercourse would be different."

"I'm just worried that it's because you think of me as a- child still."

"I wouldn't be in a relationship with you if I considered you one."

"I'm aware," Dick replies, turning the wheel. They'll be leaving the city soon. 

"Then what's the problem."

"I think you still have some reservations."

"...Dick..." Bruce says in that chiding tone.

"Why else am I a sobbing," embarrassing to admit but true, "wreck at the end every time, and you still have your composure?" Dick pauses. "It feels like - you're just indulging me." It felt one-sided really. Dick rarely has the chance to get his hands on Bruce the way he wants to, to slide his fingers all over the expanse of Bruce's broad chest and pepper his scars with kisses until Bruce was unable to wait. Bruce always controlled the flow of their interactions.

"..." 

Dick has to glance over at Bruce now to take in his expression. He looks solemn, the weight back on his shoulders, unlike moments ago.

"It's not what you think it is," Bruce says quietly.

"Try me."

Bruce sighs and then just says, "When we get back to the mansion."

Dick purses his lips but acquiesces. Bruce only talks when he wants. "Okay." Dick changes the topic to give himself something else to focus on for the mean time. "Alfred took Tim to visit Leslie?"

"Yes. He worked himself into a fever after he stayed up two nights in a row."

"School?"

"The first night was for a science project. The other was for an English essay."

Dick hums. He recalls the all-nighters he'd pulled in high school too. Well, not really, considering he'd been pretty out of it when he had had to, but he knows the feeling well. "Just a cold?"

"Most likely. He's up to date on his flu shots and vaccinations. There was the concern that in combination with his healing wounds, he'd have a difficult recovery."

"He'll be fine," Dick reassures Bruce after a quick glance at his expression. "Tim's a strong kid even if he looks delicate. Even if any complications come up, you have access to all the best doctors in the world and all the magical and supernatural abilities of the Justice League."

"Mm." 

Bruce is concerned, but won't admit it. Even now, he tries to keep a facade of distance, and it tempts Dick to make a joke about Bruce being the dad and Alfred the mom, but considering Dick is dating Bruce, he's not so sure how well that would play out for him. "So what did Alfie prep in advance for your lunch?"

"How do you know that he did?"

Dick laughs. "Because you can't cook. For all your detective and martial arts skills, you can't portion any ingredient right."

"I can with a recipe," Bruce replies defensively.

"Yeah, you can," Dick replies, "but whatever you do make won't end up being as good as Alfie's, and you're spoiled. You probably would only eat two bites of it."

Bruce makes a sound of indignation. Like he wouldn't. 

"Admit it," Dick eggs him on, "you're a rich spoiled brat who needs his butler."

Bruce gives him an unimpressed look.

"If you do, I'll get Tim to stop making fun of you for that time you tripped on your cape coming down from the gargoyle and faceplanted because you'd gotten sex-pollened and were too hard to do a flip right."

Bruce makes a noise of consternation. But Dick knows the offers too good. Especially considering Bruce had told everyone who'd asked about his bruised face that it'd been Harley Quinn. Tim had caught him in the blatant lie while passing through the Watchtower too.

Bruce shoots Dick a look. It's as irritated as it is indulging. Then he slowly, unwillingly says, "I am-...a rich, spoiled brat...who needs his butler."

Dick manages to keep his silence. It's a very strained silence, and for all Dick's effort he ends up making an ugly sound reminiscent of a choking walrus.

Bruce manages not to say anything about that.

They go around the bend that leads up to the manor, and Dick circles around the front to the garage, Dick reaching into his pocket for the remote. The door slides up and Dick drives in slowly, parking beside all the other shiny over-expensive cars.

"Lunch?" Dick says with a pointed grin at Bruce.

Bruce frowns at him.

* * *

 

Dick writhes on the sheets. 

He lets out a broken exhale as Bruce shifts his position above Dick, bracketing him. Bruce runs a soothing hand over Dick's side even as he strokes him to full hardness. When he twists his wrist, Dick lets out another sharp exhale and digs his fingers into Bruce's back, arching his back and tensing his muscles. He knows he's should bring up the topic again; it's a perfect teaching moment for someone as thickheaded as Bruce, but it's sort of difficult to piece together thoughts at the moment.

He bucks his hips up, thrusting into Bruce's grasp as he holds onto his shoulders to give himself more leverage.

Dick moans, his eyelashes fluttering shut as he thinks about Bruce pressing his erection against Dick's, rubbing them together simultaneously. He takes in a shaky breath to ask for it, for permission, one that gets interrupted and ends up coming up as a stuttered groan when Bruce sucks down hard on his nipple, twisting the other. He changes tactics in his daze and just reaches for Bruce, feeling for the zipper of his pants. 

Dick plants his feet flat on the bed, moving with Bruce's hand even as he yanks him down with his other to distract him. But after Dick gets in a few strokes, finally getting Bruce loose from his underwear, Bruce moves. He plants kisses along Dick's jaw and the length of his neck, moving back down to his chest and nipples, his cock going out of reach from Dick.

Dick makes a groan of frustration, tempted by the thoughts of just flipping them over and tying Bruce down so he can have his way. 

Then Bruce pauses after sucking a bruise into Dick's thigh.

"About before," Bruce begins.

Dick registers his words through his thick arousal and frustration. It's a surprise that Bruce had come back to it at all, especially without Dick pushing. Bruce usually makes good on his promises, but Dick has almost always seen him avoid explaining his actions. He doesn't communicate. He doesn't see the purpose in it.

"It's not because I think you're a child," Bruce says softly.

Dick lowers his eyes, trying to even out his breathing. The urgency fades, and there's weight sinking in his stomach.

Dick knows. He'd known without Bruce telling him. He'd actually known with the second time they'd had sex, but had never found a way to bring it up, knowing that without reference, evidence, Bruce would shoot him down immediately.

Bruce pauses and ends it there with a kiss higher at Dick's hip and then along his thighs, going slower, sliding his lips along one of Dick's scars.

It's guilt. 

He doesn't see Dick as a child now, no, but Dick had been a child before when he'd been in Bruce's care, and every time Dick is in bed with him, naked, all the scars from then are bared to the light. And all the scars from after, the ones Bruce will blame himself for too because he'd started Dick along this path, are there, shinier and stark against his tanned skin.

Bruce presses his lip against the tip, come smearing across his lips, and that makes Dick jerk and hold his breath. He freezes for too long.

"Dick."

Dick reports, "I'm fine."

"You're not."

Dick looks up to find Bruce frowning over him. He's still fully clothed, only the top few buttons of his shit unbuttoned and his pants unzipped while Dick is completely naked. Dick runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back and out of his face as he sighs. "Would it kill you to trust me for once?"

Bruce's expression darkens. "If this is about before-" He cuts himself off, seeming to rethink his words. He takes in a heavy breath through his nose, Dick watching his expression. 

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" Bruce finally asks, low.

“Yeah, a little,” Dick says quiet, breathing slowly now. “I like to reciprocate.”

“That's not necessary.”

It takes Dick a moment to bite back the reflexive words of irritation at Bruce's overbearing tendencies. Dick is incredulous that Bruce hasn’t learned yet. People don’t like being told what to do or having the problem they brought up being dismissed. Or, Bruce does know. He just doesn't care.

Bruce's eyes narrow with frustration at whatever expression Dick is making.

"I'm trying to be good to you, Dick," he says.

"Humor me then," Dick counters.

Bruce sighs, sitting back. "What's this supposed to achieve?"

It's very hard for Dick not to say 'orgasm', but from the look on Bruce's face, Dick is pretty sure he's already noted Dick's desire to.

"More mental satisfaction on my end and more physical satisfaction on yours."

Bruce purses his lips together. "I like being able to see your face when I suck you off, Dick. I'm not certain why you think I'm not satisfied with our arrangement now, but I enjoy being able to focus on your reactions when we have sex."

Dick's returning smile is wry. "You think that I don't like that too? I love watching your expression when you first slide into me or when you're trying to hold back when we're somewhere we're not supposed to be." He likes seeing the way Bruce stops breathing for just a split second when he bottoms out and the way his eyes get dark, lips slightly parted, strands of hair in his eyes when he fucks up into Dick, demanding and firm. 

Dick pushes his bangs back and winks at Bruce. "It's cute, B."

Bruce's expression goes flat, but not in an angry way. In the way a dog might flatten their ears. It makes Dick watch his expression more carefully.

Bruce sighs, getting up off Dick turning away. He climbs up off the bed and walks a few feet away to a drawer. Dick watches him, getting up on his elbows, the rest of him still spread out on show.

When Bruce turns around again, he's shucking off his jacket and taking off his shoes simultaneously. Dick settles in to enjoy the strip tease, giving Bruce a cheeky look. Bruce takes it impassively except for the little quirk at the edge of his lips. When he's down to just his unbuttoned shirt and his boxers, he kneels down to pick something  -probably lube- out of his discarded pants' pockets before turning to Dick. 

The moment Bruce is back at the edge of the bed again, Dick is kneeling on the bed, wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck to pull him into a kiss. Bruce wraps his hands around Dick's waist, engulfing him, and after a moment, they slide down to cup his ass, spreading them as he slides his thumb over the cleft.

Dick makes a soft grunt when Bruce slides his first slicked up finger in up to the knuckle. He fucks it and out of Dick as Dick marks him with several bites. 

There's a shifting of weight and Dick expects it before it comes. Bruce moves forward, climbing onto the bed, and pushes Dick back, finger still inside. Dick flinches at the feel, a small shudder wracking his body. When he looks up, Bruce is watching him, eyes unwavering. It sends a jolt through Dick.

Because Bruce is he's a little less than four thirds his weight and four inches taller, but all Dick thinks when he sees those piercing pale blue eyes is that Bruce is fragile.

He's not sure that that thought will ever change.

Bruce resumes with a soft kiss to his lips as his fingers slide out to trail down Dick’s body, leaving an empty ache. His lips following, going to Dick’s jaw, sliding along his neck, caressing his chest and stomach, licking at the sensitive skin of his thighs.

Dick dripping wet at the tip, twisting impatiently into Bruce’s touch. He massages Dick’s thighs, kneading his fingers in until Dick gives in and relaxes the muscles. The moment he does, the sensations flooded him, rushing through his body without the dam of a tense body to hold it back. He can't stop the embarrassing, choked pants that pass his lips. Dick shudders openly, breathing wetly at the way Bruce’s hand feel on him. Hot, and too big, like he’s everywhere all at once, touches lingering like brands.

"Fuck, please, Bruce."

Bruce doesn't reply. With one hand, he strokes Dick's erection, and then there’s the press of one finger against his hole. Bruce rubs the slick finger against him with a distracted expression.

When he does breach him again with his thick, warm finger, Dick sucks a breath in before he relaxes himself to let Bruce in. 

Bruce crooks his finger, thrusting it in and out as he strokes the inside walls. He continues, but at the slowest pace ever, glancing up at Dick, nearly unreadable.

"Bruce," Dick says. He places a hand on Bruce's shoulder, squeezing. He breathes in a little shakily, once, and then evenly.

He clenches down on Bruce's finger to feel every single knuckle, recording the memory in his mind.

He can imagine the sight he must make, sucking Bruce's finger in, legs spread, and face flushed. A part of him is pleased at the thought of the desire Bruce feels at the sight of him. He knows it's a weakness; there're too many arguments he's willing to put down just for the certainty of this.

Bruce presses two fingers against him this time, repeating the process of rubbing the tips before he slowly sinks in. It takes only a few minutes before they settle comfortably inside him. A warm, hard weight filling him.

Dick tilts his hips, breathing harder down. Bruce doesn’t comply even if he’s looking a little worse for the wear himself, erection jutting up between his thighs, and his breathing heavier than usual.

Bruce strokes Dick’s hip soothingly like he's a skittish horse. Dick only groans, rolling his head to the side, trying his best not to come just yet.

 

Then Bruce leans down lower between his legs, breath hot against Dick, and he slides his tongue in.

Dick jerks, arching off the bed, letting out a soundless plea.

"Oh god," Dick stutters, body held suspended up at the sensation.

Bruce’s tongue slides against his walls, utterly smooth and send electricity shooting through Dick’s body at his sensitized insides.

Dick reaches out blindly, grasping for Bruce's head. He sinks his hand into his hair and holds on.

Bruce hums around Dick’s hole, and Dick arches violently, letting out a soundless cry as comes over his own face. His thighs quiver, and Dick is sorely tempted to kick Bruce in the face. Just to spite him. He tightens his grip on Bruce’s hair, but like always, the pain doesn’t deter the man.

Bruce just continues licking slowly at his rim until Dick is a half hard again, twitching helplessly around Bruce’s slick muscle. It takes only a few minutes.

“Haa-- aggh,” Dick groans, ignoring the prickle of tears at his eyes. He makes a breathy noise of irritation before he bends himself further in half and put his hands on Bruce’s shoulders.

Bruce glances up, pupils dilating at Dick’s expression and flexibility.

"Did you seriously not hear a word I just said before?" Dick pants, knowing he must not make a very intimidating picture right then.

Bruce pulls off Dick and licks his red lips. His expression is entirely serious. "I'm not stopping you from reciprocating." He moves to grab tissues to wipe Dick's face, and Dick lets him even if Dick scowls while he does.

Something twists in the pit of Dick's stomach. Bruce is good at that. Shifting fault.

Before Bruce is even down wiping the come of Dick's face, his other hand is wrapped around Dick's cock and stroking lazily. It's still too much too soon, and Dick winces, jerking away. He shoots Bruce a half-hearted glare before he glances away again. 

Bruce's other hand cups Dick's cheek and pushes his bangs back, and Dick can't help but lean into the touch, turning his cheek to press back.

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing even with Bruce's hand around him. He doesn't really succeed, and opens his eyes half lidded to take in the way loose strands of hair hang in Bruce's face, the faint bites on his skin Dick had left, his reddened lips. The slight glint of his teeth.

God. Dick doesn't hesitate before he practically throws Bruce onto the bed, flipping himself up to settle comfortably on Bruce's stomach. 

He runs his hands over Bruce's chest, loving the solid feel of him under him. For all his muscle and scars, Bruce's body is soft and giving under Dick's hands. Dick leans down to mouth at Bruce's collar bone. He keeps a close eye on Bruce's movements in his peripheral view. 

There's the sound tearing of foil, as Bruce slides a condom over himself. 

“I could’ve done that for you with my mouth," Dick pauses to say. He's probably not thinking clearly from knowing Bruce is at the least, at the moment letting Dick have his way.

“I appreciate your prowess, but maybe another time,” Bruce only says wryly as Dick positions himself, the tip of Bruce's cock rubbing against him.

Bruce looks up at Dick with eyes half-lidded, a hand firm on Dick's hip.

No matter how many times it happens, Dick still feels a shudder run through him at the thought of how easily Bruce slides inside of him despite his size. He sinks down and groans at the glide as he forces himself to take it until Bruce bottoms out inside him, the press of hips against Dick’s ass. He clenches tight around him, relishing Bruce’s breathy grunt.

His large hands wraps around Dick’s waist, and Dick melts into the touch.

His body and mind respond to Bruce, like they always have, matching him with every move and change in mood. He rolls with every thrust, pressing back against him, matching Bruce move for move as he hits his prostate with precision each time, shaking the bed underneath them.

Dick’s breath hitches as Bruce changes the rhythm and holds him steady, pulling out slowly, Dick able to feel each drag of Bruce’s cock inside, his hole feeling like it's stretching impossibly wide as Bruce slides the head out.

And then he has the audacity to lift Dick up and just rub the tip against Dick, sliding forward and down against his ass instead of inside.

Dick groan loudly, and Bruce's lips curl.

"Just fuck me already," Dick growls.

Bruce slams Dick down onto him, and Dick lets out a sharp soundless cry. Even with Bruce underneath him, he's the one controlling the pace. It takes Dick a moment before he's able to match Bruce's rhythm again, and then there's just the sound of panting and the wet sounds of Dick spreading open too wide for Bruce over and over again.

Dick hangs his held, both hands on Bruce's chest for support, feeling the bumps of old scars. That's when he slides a hand up to Bruce' neck, yanking him forward, thumb stroking his nape. Dick parts his lips, an open invitation that Bruce accepts, his mouth hot as Bruce licks at his palate and slides his tongue over Dick’s teeth.

Dick digs his nails into the flesh of Bruce’s neck, pupils dilated with only a thin ring of blue left, as they pull apart. Dick slams himself down on Bruce, rubbing his cock along his abs, ready to finish again.

“No,” Bruce growls, low in Dick’s ear. It sends a jolt through his body, shuddering, cock jerking and dripping at his tone.

“A-agh,”  Dick groans, clenching around Bruce. He squeezes his tearing eyes shut, holding onto the command even when Bruce is unbelievably thick and hot inside of him, stretching his insides. Dick gasps as he comes so close, just waiting for Bruce to go the slightest bit harder in implicit permission. When he doesn’t, Dick feels the annoyance rise just enough to clear his mind.

There's still something else. Something Dick needs to prove.

Something Bruce needs to know- Dick takes in short sharp breaths, trying to regain his line of thinking. If he doesn’t say something first and press Bruce, he’ll never get it out of him. He digs his nail into his palms, relishing the drag of Bruce inside of him before Dick stops Bruce with a flat palm on his chest, panting. He reaches over to wipe the faint line of drool from his lips before he tilts his head back, eyes squeezed shut, waiting until he isn’t as close to the edge. Once he catches his breath and regains his control, he says, “You know it’s just as hard for me to watch you get hurt, Bruce.’

Bruce strokes the underside of Dick’s thigh, silent.

It gives Dick time to run his eyes over the familiar curves of his face. The severe lines of his cheekbones and jaw, the fullness of his lips, and his slightly crooked nose that only makes him more charming. He's handsome. He's surreal and that's never once been all that he's been to Dick.

Bruce makes Dick breathless. He's the embodiment of everything that holds him steady on the ground, and Dick's never wanted anything more than he's wanted Bruce. The air, water, food, flying, nothing can compare. Nothing will ever come close to what it feels like to have Bruce by his side.

He wants Bruce to understand that he doesn't owe him anything. There's nothing he needs to atone for.

“I can protect you too, Bruce,” Dick continues after a moment. He just wants Bruce to know it. Wants to offer those words to blanket around him, slightly more solid if only for having been spoken out loud. 

“I know you can,” Bruce murmurs as he presses a kiss to Dick’s collarbone. His movements are slow and steady. “You have been since the moment I met you.” Another kiss. Another, over Dick's skin until his body is buzzing again.

He grinds into Dick, and Dick gasps, reaching out to grab Bruce’s hair and hold him still.

“And I can take the pain." Dick narrows his eyes. "You know I can.”

“Like I said. Doesn’t mean you should have to-”

“I want to,” Dick insists. “I knew what I was getting into from day one.”

“You were a kid you-”

“You pranced around in a Batsuit at night beating up criminals, _proclaiming_ that you were the _night_. I had more common sense than you as an eight year old. And you are kidding yourself if I did not go back upstairs the night after I found out and laugh my ass off at you, Bruce.” Dick cracks a wry smile that he is guessing isn't taken as wry, considering the way Bruce twitches inside him.

“Didn’t you say you thought I was cool?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said.” Dick blinks back at him evenly. He can't hold back his little laugh at the end.

Bruce makes a disgruntled noise.

“It’s something I need as much as you, Bruce.”

“I wish it wasn’t.”

“...you saw it in me as a kid, and that’s why you picked me up. You _knew_ I’d go after Zucco myself. I might’ve even killed him.”

“...I know.”

“Then-”

“I didn’t save you from anything," Bruce states. "Even if- _even if_ you had killed him, it would have changed very little.”

A little laugh of disbelief escapes his lips.

“You don’t...you don’t have to lie to me Bruce. I know what you think about murder. And I’m not going to leave even if you said that you wou-”

Bruce evens his breathing out. “I don’t condone murder, Dick. I’ve always placed it under a strict scrutiny because I understand how thin the line is." He licks his lips. "And I know you better than you think I do."

"You might've killed him, but that anger in you directed towards him would've have an equivalent backlash on you. It'd be something in the newspapers one day. Something about his kid or his wife or sibling or parents. It might've been something unrelated that was about hope or forgiveness or redemption. Whatever it would be, it would've happened.” It sounds like a lie. The kind of lie, Dick's always wanted to hear from Bruce's lips. 

"You wouldn't have continued down that path, Dick. You've never been destined for the cruelty or apathy or hatred. It's not the kind of man you are."

“I-,” Dick breathes in, dumbfounded. There's something about the way Bruce is looking at him now. It echoes of the way Dick knows, has caught himself looking at Bruce for years now. “You-” Another laugh escaped his lips. “Why are you-”

“I mean it, Dick.”

“I know you do, Bruce...” Dick swallows, “Thanks.” 

Bruce doesn't trust anyone, not even or especially himself. He knows too well the capacity of consciousnesses to do evil. He knows how easy it is to lose, and what it can drive a person to. Dick knows his own capacity too, has gone over it, so he knows the trust placed in him is possibly misplaced, but Dick wants it, will take it, and will do everything in his ability to prove himself worthy of it to Bruce.

Bruce pulls out to the tip, and then pants, before he tugs at Dick’s cock gently and inches back in, watching Dick’s every expression.

Dick gasps, feeling like he's floating on air, head hazy. He sways a little, suddenly wanting to come so badly again. Every single one of Bruce’s touches is agonizing, hands rasping over his skin.

He leans down slowly, his spine curving over Bruce as he presses his head against Bruce’s shoulder, breathing out, short quick breaths, his body and mind in contrast. He feels calm, distant even if his entire body aches impatiently for pleasure, for Bruce to give, give and then give him more until he’s feels drenched and whole.

There's the sounds of Bruce’s hands sliding over his skin over his quiet pants, putting the image in Dick’s mind of the sight of it, Bruce’s pale skin on his.

Tears prickle at his eyes

“Tell me you love me,” Dick gasps, bucking his hips as he digs his fingers, hard enough to bruise, into the muscle of Bruce's bicep.

He wants it to be fair between them. He wants Bruce to not feel guilt when he looks at Dick. He wants to steady Bruce and give him hope, not guilt, but Dick doesn't think Bruce is ready to surrender his guilt. He's not sure he ever will be.

Bruce said it low, mouthing it against Dick’s skin. “I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

Bruce doesn’t respond, withdrawing contact, the teasing touch of his lips and tongue over Dick gone. Dick snaps his eyes open, heart beating out of his chest to find Bruce’s in front of his. Bruce is smiling, expression unbearably soft. He touches Dick's cheek, and almost looks he's something in him is breaking when he says, “I love you, Dick. I always have, always will.”

Dick lets the tears leak from the corner of his eyes, dripping onto Bruce's cheeks. They're forgotten as he grinds down against Bruce, nails digging into the man’s chest even if Bruce’s hand is as gentle and firm on him as always.

Dick wants to melt into him. A part of him wants to always be by his side, chests beating in sync.

When they pull apart, he rubs the dents where he’d dug his nails in, soothing the irritated skin. 

 _Bruce, I believe in you_ , Dick want to say, soft. _Faith, trust, and pixie dust;_  Bruce has got it all from Dick if he wants it. Even if he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t understand, or maybe he does but just doesn’t know it, that each time Dick puts on the suit and goes out, it’s a confirmation of his faith. Rising in the night, high above on the rooftops, each moment in gritty detail of the truth in life that he loves, Dick is more alive than he's ever been.

And seeing Bruce in that cowl, draped in darkness is the closest Dick’s ever come to feeling at home since stepping on that platform high above the crowd and looking for his parents’ signals.

Dick grins, feeling his throat, his eyes, his chest all burn, “I love you.”

He pulls Bruce back into another kiss before the other man can respond, sliding his tongue inside, letting the slick, wet sounds grow louder as he aims to make Bruce’s knees go weak. He slides his hands through Bruce’s hair, yanking without reservation at the short strands.

Bruce groans, arching into Dick, and Dick clamps down around him, thrusting his hips down and then pulling up. He pants, grabbing Bruce’s shoulders and anchoring himself by them again as he fucks himself on Bruce. He shudders at the stretch, like new almost, tilting his head back as he gasps brokenly.

“Ahh....agghh, Bruce. Bruce-,” Dick groans.

Bruce sounds just as wrecked as him, his hands around Dick's hips.

He pulls out and presses back in again with controlled urgency, zeroing in on Dick’s prostrate each time until Dick finally spills, working himself through it by thrusting his hips against Bruce until the older man moans and comes too.

Dick collapses on the bed, his insides over sensitized as Bruce pulls out, too aware of the feeling of emptiness. Bruce shifts to the side and pulls Dick close to him, breathing heavily, his hands still stroking at Dick.

“Good?” Dick asks.

“Amazing,” Bruce replies.

Dick snorts turning away for a moment before he turns back, Bruce’s breathing steadier now.

“Say it again?” Dick grins blindingly at Bruce.

Bruce runs his fingers over Dick, gentle by touch, rough by texture, calluses scraping against scars. His hands are hot on Dick’s skin. It feels like his touch is scalding, the heat overwhelming and blooming everywhere he touches.

“I love you.”

Dick touches Bruce’s hair, fingertips skimming the surprisingly soft hair as he hums in response. Almost like feathers. He strokes Bruce’s head. 

Dick remembers that night, his hand's itching at drying blood on his hands. He'd looked up and seen a strange, imposing man talking to the officer who had introduced himself as Commissioner Gordon. He'd felt a gust of wind and had seen the ghost of fluttering wings at every flex of the strange man's tense shoulders. He'd been mesmerized.

Then the man, Bruce Wayne, had walked towards Dick and asked, kneeling down so he was eye level, holding Dick's hands between his two, "Would you like to become my ward, Dick?" 

Dick had looked at him and had liked the way the Bruce's feelings had been tangible to Dick. He had liked how the man was large but his hand holding Dick's was so very careful, almost like he was scared to break him. How he had a determined expression anyway that rejected the fear. It'd occurred to Dick that maybe Bruce Wayne liked the way the wind felt against his cheeks when he soared through the sky too. That he longed for it in his blood the same way Dick did, and that that was what was tugging at Dick's chest.

He'd said okay, and Bruce Wayne had given him the tiniest, relieved and uncertain smile. 

Dick wonders if Bruce knows about what Dick had held in his hands that night. Fragile and fluttering between his palms, trying desperately to escape his hold after everything Dick had just lost.

When Dick closes his eyes, ready to fall into sleep, it's to the certainty of Bruce's soft touch encircling and engulfing him, to brushes of kisses and to the familiar feel of feathers against his skin. 

 

 


End file.
